


Return to Me

by Emblue_Sparks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emblue_Sparks/pseuds/Emblue_Sparks
Summary: Dean's grief is consuming him, Sam keeps hearing squeaking from his brothers room. What could be going on?





	Return to Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Promptober 2017 from the Destiel NaNoWriMo fb group. Todays word is Squeak.

Dean had been silent as the grave since they got back to the bunker. He and Sam agreed on the hope that Asmodeus was the last Kardashian, then he and Jack had had that little “chat” about what would happen if he crossed a toe over the line to the darkside. 

It had been radio silence from him ever since. He’d been making supply runs for who knows what and Sam could hear him banging around in the garage, in the dungeon, spending solid chunks of time in the gun range really lighting shit up down there, geez….which was good therapy he supposed. 

He knew Dean was suffering, he missed Cas too. There was so much he wished he could've said to the angel who’d felt like a brother. So many things there just weren't enough time for. Then there was their mom. Sam missed her, he finally had her back and simply couldn’t give up on the idea of opening the door to that other world. At least if she was there it was possible to bring her home. Not like Cas, he..he was gone for good this time and he could see how it was eating his brother alive. It was clear he wouldn't sleep, see to his nutritional needs, and now he was just...inconsolable. 

He’d been hearing odd sounds from Dean’s room all through the night. For several nights. They were big boys, they respected each other's space and time, so it wasn't uncommon for one of them to wake up at any given point in the night and find the other pacing, watching netflix, listening to music..their schedules were all kinds of crazy given their calling. 

But Sam had been hearing some kind of high pitched grating or squeaking. It could go on for hours, it wasn't particularly loud and didn't seem to be keeping up Jack, but Dean was looking more and more like a wraith everyday….smelling like one too. When was the last time the guy had a shower???

Whenever he did come out of his room he made sure to close the door behind him, normally he left it open. Between his newly developed secrecy and the squeaking, Sam was growing concerned. What the hell was he doing to cause all that squeaking? Jumping on the bed? Jerking off? He didn't want to pry, but after a week of it he felt an intervention of sorts was required. 

“I need to know... what's going on Dean?” he asked one morning over coffee. His brother looked like the walking dead and was downing his fifth cup of coffee, it was only 7am. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, in a tone indicating he really wasn't in the mood to go there.

Sam was going there regardless. “What the hell have you been doing at all hours, I keep hearing all these bizarro squeaking noises coming from your room?”

Dean closed his eyes in exhaustion and immense irritation. He was done, just SO done. His brother meant well, but he just couldn't talk, he neither had the energy nor the heart. So he figured he'd just show him. He silently rose from the kitchen table and gestured for Sam to follow him. 

When Dean opened his bedroom door Sam almost lost his balance he was so taken aback by what he saw. 

Dean had purchased a queen bed at some point, the headboard had been freshly made because he could still smell...sawdust...on Dean..and gunpowder? 

“Dean did you make that headboard?”

“.......yeah” he answered, his voice breaking.

Sam was in complete awe of his brother. The massive piece of oak had enormous wings burnt in between the striations from painstakingly placed gunpowder and yet the detail was incredible. Dean must’ve spent days on it. Tears stung and cascaded down Sam's face at the thought of Dean drawing out the exact shape and wing pattern that had been left in the sand at the lake house. The inner torment must’ve nearly killed him as he used the gunpowder to scorch in the patterns just as Cas’s had been in the sand. On the left side of the headboard, the side always left empty..Dean was weird and never used a whole bed to himself for some reason, was an oval shaped ring burnt in with very light fading echoes. It almost looked like that was the side designated for Cas as Dean would sleep on the right were one wing tip dipped as if shielding or guarding him as he slept. 

Sam also noticed Dean's weapons organized differently on the concrete ledge above his bed. Some were on his side, including the grenade launcher, and some were on the other side which included Cas’s angel blade. A new wardrobe closet had been placed next to his on the right side of the room. And two paintings on the left wall were new. One was of a beautiful flower field and dozens of vibrant bees buzzed around. The other was of a solitary figure standing in a brilliant green meadow under a stunningly clear blue sky flying a red kite. 

Dean started to drop from exhaustion, Sam caught him and both of them burst into tears on the floor. The floodgates were open and they were free to mourn the man who was brother to one and love to the other.

“I'm gonna get him back Sammy. I have to. I n-never told him...I s-should have..” Dean sobbed into his brother's shoulder.

“Then let's try. I loved him too Dean, I want to bring him back. He belongs here with us. He belongs in here with you.”

The road would be hard and long, but well worth the journey.


End file.
